Redemption
by Flame Falcon
Summary: Redemption is often found in the manner of one's death. When they give their lives in the name of He who reigns eternal on Terra, even the most notorious of the Penal Legion can find redemption. As one discredited commissar is about to find out, it will be such a way to find his redemption.


**Well, I planned on this being a side project but since I had trouble with the Long Vigil, I worked on this oneshot. Enjoy.**

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Death. In service of the God Emperor of Mankind, death was not only a possibility, but a blatant certainty. Death did not even over look the Emperor's angels of death the Aduptus Astartes. All of his loyal servants would die one day. Be it in one war, the one after, or even the one after that. And on the day that they would go to the right side of the Emperor and the saints, they had to face their judgment. Even the mighty Sebastian Thor would endure the trial all men would do so. Death would be a place all men would go to one day in the fullness of time.

But those in service of the Penal Legions of His holy Imperial Guard were twice damned to die. They were guardsmen foremost, and they sacrificed more and gained less then any other fighting arm of the Imperium. The second fact was that they were criminals. Their crimes were numerous: murder, robbery, and even something as trivial as accidentally knocking a noble to the ground. They were little more then cannon fodder, the meat put through the grinder. Truly, if any servant of the Golden Throne whose death was obviously certain, it would be for these souls.

That fact was becoming apparent to Gabriel Danet, he looked at the mounds of men he once called squad mates. He felt his blood curdle in his veins at the sheer sight of such numbers, but he recalled his training at the Schools. He steeled his soul and produced another bolt pistol magazine and slammed it home. His second to last one, and he had no intention of holding one back for himself. It was his duty as a guardsman to kill until killed, to slaughter unto death. He moved past the bodies to the main line of defenders, each one a bone weary as he was.

Gabriel would give his heart to led these men in a grand attack, where they would wear the uniforms with pride. To be one with the men rather then that of scum. He wanted to feel his old chainsword in his hand as it carved through an ork's torso. To taste and smell the sharp tang of scorched ozone as his plasma gun as it spat death, while his commissar coat fluttered with the winds of battle.

He sighed, his body relaxing after becoming involuntarily tense. Such was never to be his to experience once again. Montage Primus, that was all he could remember. When he refused suicidal orders to led the remainder of the regiment into a certain Tau death trap. He instead led a covert operation to outflank the range dependent xenos. The price of his rationality: to be cast aside to the Legions as a commander so his talents wouldn't be completely useless. He traded his chainsword for a combat knife and his plasma pistol for his bolt one. His great coat now a numbered vest with is penal serial number.

And so, for three years past, Gabriel led the 77th Redeemers from one slaughter to the next. Each time they were sent to their certain deaths, each time they cheated their odds and lived to see the next world. A motley assortment of weapons in their hands and fire in their bellies, it was for them to do the Emperor's work on their permanent tour of duty.

Now, it was the thirteenth world and their luck may just have run out. An unnamed world, near a warp anomaly, was brought into the Imperium's fold. Since they set their foot on the ground, the Redeemers have engaged both daemon and heretic. Three weeks of non stop fighting and shifting battle grounds took their toll on the Legion. Where once there was five thousand penal troopers, now barley ten percent of them remained. Each gain was paid in blood, and each loss was sold in enemy lives. The Legion now stood Emperor knows where, cut off from Imperial command and running low on weapons to fight with.

Gabriel walked through the makeshift fortifications of the ruined village. Where buildings of mortar and stone once stood, only ruins remained. Blocks were hauled out into the open to provide some rudimentary form of cover. Benches and tables were turned over to do the same, for there was not a single item that did not bare the touch of the fiery hand of war. Behind them, troopers readied their weapons for the next wave, which would come sooner then later.

He paused and looked into the pocket of his armor. It was still there, his note for when... if anyone found his remains when he did eventually die. In it was what happened to him, his obituary. He only hoped that it would be found, and who ever did took it to heart. Lest his mistakes be cursed to damn another to his fate or those who surround him.

Gabriel looked to the men, each one of them looked as if they were about ready to fall asleep where they stood. A combination of recaf, stimulants, fear, and sheer adrenalin kept them where they were. Dirt and grime caked their skin as well as their armor. In their arms, many of them cradled what weapons they had left like their children. Each one was in here for a variety reasons, but the details were trivial and pointless to the jaded. Clearly they were all human ones. Gabriel felt a mixture of contempt and pity to them, but knew that he also fell alongside them in all what they would do. These were to be his brothers and sisters in arm until oblivion claimed them all.

The sound of an explosion out the west drew him out of the morbid thoughts and prepared him for the morbid actions he was about to do. He held out his hand and Sawyer, one of his closest comrades, tossed him a primed lasgun. Gabriel made sure it was sent on the standard power setting and rushed to the front. He slid behind some slabs of brick and peered over it. He saw the outlines of dozens of cultists, auto-pistols in hand and debased screams on their lips. "Corvus, what are we dealing with now?"

Corvus, named after his pale skin and black hair , passed the monoculars to Gabriel. "Three platoons of cultists, and enough firepower to bring down a devision. They want to get closer to us given their current armaments. The heavy bolters are in position and await your command. But the men may need something to prepare themselves. " He passed Gabriel a vox link and the jaded warrior took it with a nod.

Gabriel paused for a moment. What words could he say? What words would make this day, the day of their deaths, less painful then it already was? What could he say to inspire them, to make them ready for their day of judgment. He closed his eyes and whispered a quick prayer that he would find the right words. He opened them and knew that it wouldn't be long before the cultists were in range. He had time, but he wanted to say a few words to the men.

"Men and women of the 77th Redeemers. Brothers and sisters of war, this is Gabriel Danet. I stand before you today a free man and I am willing to die a free man. Through my years in the Guard, both before and along side you, I have seen what you have saw. I have suffered as you have suffered. Today, we put all of our training, experience, and trust in one another to the test. I do not expect any of us to survive the battle. Imperial command assured me we would die here as the scum we are. We are not worth their effort to save us, and we have done nothing for them."

He paused a moment, letting the words soak in. "They are wrong. We have proven ourselves time and again to the Emperor who reigns immortal on the Golden Throne of Terra. We have been subjected to the worst the universe can throw at us and we have stood tall. If this is to be our end, then our sweat and blood be the ink that writes our history today. Against all the hellfire and fury of the Great Enemy, we stand. When death comes for us, we will stand victoriously. And when the end days come, when the Emperor rises once more to save the universe, and when he slays the forces of Chaos forevermore, its last thought will be of us. That is our victory, carved into the heart of Chaos. We cannot lose for we have already won."

He affixed his bayonet and raised it above his head. "we know not what are chances are in this, so we fight as if they were zero. We do not know what we will face, so we fight as if the very Blood God came for our skulls. And they may take our lives, and I offer mine freely. They only need to meet the price." He swung the lasgun forward, signaling the Heavy Bolters to fire. "THEY DIE FIRST!"

The chorus of agreements echoed behind him along with the heavy weapons firing their salvos of deadly bolts. The mass reactive shells detonated inside their target, sending blood and bone flying in all directions. Gabriel brought his lasgun to bear and aimed down the iron sights. The weapon was poor against armor targets, but when fired in volleys, it was a weapon to truly be afraid of.

When the first heretic was in range, a shaved head and eyes red as murder, he squeezed the trigger on the weapon. Akin to the sound of a whip cracking, the las bolt buried itself in the left eye and sent the limp body twisting to the ground. Others began to fire their rounds off while the horde approached closer. Balls of blue plasma fired off, cooking the organs of their targets causing them to either explode or disintegrate. Corvus himself produced a hellgun, which he 'borrowed' from the body of a fallen storm trooper. The improved lasgun punched trough the torso of another traitor, and the second one separated the head from the shoulder.

Yet for each traitor they killed, for each heretic blasted apart by bolter rounds, for each mutant sent to the Throne for judgment, more came. They were swarming their flanks, and Gabriel forced them to tighten their formation. Melee combat would soon be all but inevitable. Each of the penal troopers at his side knew that and quickly attached their bayonets or drew their close quarters combat weapons with their side arms.

The first heretic to break the lines swung an ax towards Corvus, who blocked it with his armored arm. This allowed Gabriel to drive his bayonet through the neck of the enemy. Kicking the falling torso back, the two unleashed an intense volley of las bolts. Though even through that, the sounds of the dead and dying filled his ears. Gabriel bit his lip and he stood his ground. He fired las shot after las shot, but there was very little in which he could do to stem the tide of the damned. He knew the order had to come, but he wanted to be sure the forces of Chaos pay for each inch they took.

He heard the lasgun click empty and he had no more magazines to replace it with. He growled and drew his short combat sword and used his lasgun as a spear to be paired with it. Another heretic came with a screaming chainsword. "Blood for the Blood God!"

"Starting with your's first!" Gabriel responded and slammed the bayonet through the heart and finished it of with a sword stab through the eye socket. Kicking the torso down, he waited for the next one to come fore him. A heavily tattooed monster lunged over the lines, his war hammer smashed into nearby ranks, causing many of them to be slain that were both ally and foe. Gabriel readied his lasgun and like a javelin, he tossed it over his head. The bayonet found its mark and tore into the left arm of the beast, allowing it to be downed effectively with las shot.

He pulled free his bolt pistol and looked around. Men were standing and dying in unison with one another. He had little choice but to bellow the words to the survivors. "Fall back! Fall back to the center, we will gain the advantage there." Heeding their commander's order and fell back. They did a fighting retreat, firing their las carbines and other weapons as they made their way. Corvus slammed a fresh magazine home with his hellgun and fired it again. Sawyer fired his autogun into the chest of the nearest traitor, blasting an entire ribcage out before he smashed the skull in with the butt.

Gabriel looked back to the front and felt his blood freeze in his veins as he saw three massive shadows come at them from the horizon. They were massive, towering figures. He had only seen them from the distance on the most hellish of battlefields, but he could clearly make out who they were. But these were not the ones he had seen before, ones with the rich blue of the Ultramarines or with the healthy dark green of the Salamanders. These were covered in black, heretical runes covering their shoulders and armor. "Traitor Marines!"

The other troopers next to him looked and swore their oaths to the Emperor. The last of the traitors were falling back, giving way to the three Black Legionaries. The Penal Troopers turned their weapons to the Marines and aimed their weapons at them, just as the Marines did the same. The first one of the Traitor Legions removed his helmet. His head was paled, a red topknot the last remains of his hair. If it was not for the second green mouth on his chin, he could have easily been mistaken for the Dispoiler.

In some sick parody of a mimic, the twin mouths spoke as one from the same windpipe."77th Redeemers, I offer you this one chance to join us in glory with the power of Chaos. We offer you glory and power in which you can use against those who send you to your certain deaths. To fight their battles and to never redeem yourselves in the false emperor's light. Speak the words of Chaos now and forevermore, you will live in the glory of the eightfold path. Speak them not, and every one of you will die this day."

Gabriel looked over to his men, many of whom were considering the idea. Corvus and Sawyer stayed silent as they readied their weapons. The two hundred soldiers at his back, Gabriel spoke. "We are guardsmen, we knew that this day would come eventually. Damned we may be to death, the way we die judges us worthy." He gripped his bolt pistol tighter and he raised his spare hand above his head which brought the weapons to bear. "Redeemers, let us be washed into His holy embrace with the blood of the traitor!"

The opening volley of las bursts, autogun shells and other weapons was massive, it was ultimately futile as the three warriors advanced slowly. The human traitors and mutants were cut down easily by the last of the heavy bolters before the gun crew was disemboweled by the chainaxe in one of the traitor's hands. Another traitor Astarte opened up with his hellish bolter, spitting death in the direction of the penal troopers. Many fell to the ground dead others had their blood seeping from their wounds. They would die momentarily, and the last marine was playing with the troopers, taking them on without any of their weapons. He was locking them in holds and squeezing their heads off in the bulging biceps.

Gabriel swore loudly and closed his finger around the trigger of his bolt pistol. The bark and harsh kick he had grown accustom to spat eight rounds of death. The same bolter shells he had seen rupture lesser power armor and tearing through flak with ease was deflected as if it was nothing more then a distraction. Even their rare plasma weaponry, which they scavenged from the corpses of storm troopers, proved only more of a hindrance then an actual threat. Those shots that hit the bodies of the Black Legionaries only turned part of their armor into a molten slurry, and only enraged the Marines further.

The Penal Legionaries were dying fast, and soon they were down to eighty of their original number. Sawyer and Corvus stood at Gabriel's side, each one using the last of their side arm ammunition in some last vein attempt to kill the traitors. The others around them were gutted and slaughtered like livestock. The three Astartes' laughter was unnerving, if such an emotion could be felt right now. Gabriel knew that they would all die soon, but the Emperor would know of their sacrifice. But there was no glory in pointless defeat and he would not have the Redeemers be remembered for such.

"Corvus." Gabriel asked his closest ally as he slammed his final clip home. "I now give you charge of the Redeemers. Get them out of here, take them as far away as you can and continue the war there. Our lives may be sealed but we will not be slain here. That is my final command to you."

Corvus looked as if he wanted to object, but knew that Gabriel would not be changed from his position on anything. He was a fixed man, and nothing short of the Emperor's command would convince him otherwise. He nodded and bellowed the order to fall back, ten of the remaining staying behind to provide some form of cover. Each one of them fought with the strength and fury of a cornered wolf. Each one of their las shots and knife attacks hit their target, but ultimately it was in vein.

Those who stayed behind were slaughtered and soon all who remained was Gabriel. His bolt pistol was shattered just as the same arm that used it. His breathing was short and labored, blood spilling from many of his openings. His piercing green eyes were battered, one blinded and the other one was bloodied. He looked up with his one remaining eye and saw the wrong end of a bolt pistol aimed down at his head. He swallowed hard but did not close his eyes, wanting to look death straight in the face and defy it with all of his will.

"Hold." The twin mouthed creature spoke, and soon it came into view. "I have a feeling the Master would like to see this one." Soon the end of the boot came crashing down on Gabriel's face. Soon all became black.

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Gabriel's world soon came back with a jolt. He was in a black steel chamber, crackling of violet and pink lightning erupted all around him. He saw the vague outlines of the eight pointed star of Chaos. In the background noise, he could hear the chantings of cultists and the other insane noises one would usually pick up from being next to the damned. "Emperor steel my soul." He whispered so lowly he could barely hear himself.

"I do not think your false emperor will hear your pleas. Only I will." A new voice came from the shadows, causing Gabriel's head to twist in the direction. A massive figure in bulky Terminator armor, a crackling lightning claw in one hand and a very large demonic sword in the other emerged. His purplish black top knot was a stark contrast to the ritual scaring across his face. Artificer armor gave his position away as a warlord of some sort but then again there was some sense of foreboding about him.

Gabriel stiffened, trying to keep his calm and mentally recited every prayer of purity he could. "I won't listen to your lies heretic."

The traitor in the power armor was amused to a point of laughter. "Then I won't lie to you Gabriel Danet. You have been lied to enough." The look on Gabriel's face must have amused the daemon spawn even further. "Try not to act so surprised, human. Being Warmaster for the Black Legion has gained me valuable knowledge, though some of it is rather trivial."

Gabriel felt blood freeze as he realized who he was looking upon. "Abbadon the Despoiler..." The moment passed after a brief instant, and familiar feeling of disgust flared in his chest. "The Imperium of Man has hunted you for so long. If I had a bolter in my hand, I would see you slain-"

"And now you bore me. I have heard too much empty boasts in my life time." Abbadon made an exaggerated yawn with his lightning claw. Gabriel grimaced and fought against his restraints but the bonds only tightened when he did so. "Your life still has value to me, loyalist. Answer my questions and I will give you either a swift death or a place at my side. Deny me my wishes and I will rend your soul from your bones with my sword."

Gabriel felt his lips press tighter. He wasn't going to bow to the ravings of a madman. But it was obvious Abbadon was not through with his talk with Gabriel. "But before you answer my questions, please amuse me. Why did you not turn against the same bureaucracy of book keepers and quill pushers that sends men like you to their deaths with nothing more then a thought? You have access to unlimited power that could rival that of the false emperor himself. The Dark Gods legions of followers would bow to your will as you send them off to glorious battle. Imagine the power you can wield."

"As a slave to Chaos?" Gabriel responded back and rose his head to look directly into the eyes of the Despoiler. "Nothing you can say can tempt and draw me away from the path of honor. Or from me recanting my oaths of loyalty to He who reigns eternal on Terra."

Abbadon shook his head and within and instant, his lightning claw was wrapped around Gabriel's throat. Brining him three meters off the ground, the human's legs began to kick fruitlessly as he struggled for air. "Then answer me this, loyalist. Your troops have cost me many of my cultists and daemons. A slight delay, but a delay none of the less. How many of you were there at that field of battle? You were not all that was there, I know that."

Even after ten thousand years of life, the Warmaster of the Traitor Legions was still capable of beiing surprised. This was such an occasion when the former commissar he was throttling broke into a blood filled smile and a wet laugh. "We... are all and we were all." Abbadon released him and readied his sword for the kill. "We were told to hold our ground, and that is what we did. Honored were our orders in the spite of our foe."

"Your faith is misplaced. You will parish by my hand just as the false emperor you serve." Abaddon growled and looked back down for a brief instance at the still laughing penal trooper.

As Gabriel saw the sword drawn back for the kill, he saw two figures standing behind the Despoiler. Each one of them glowed with a holy radiance, worthy of piety. Gabriel recognized them as The Emperor of Mankind and the patron saint of the Imperial Guard. In that moment before the sword ran him through, Gabriel knew that what he believed in, and what he was about to die for was not misplaced. He would be found, and he would not die unavenged. It may take centuries or another millennium, but Abaddon would be brought to justice for all of the murders and sacrilege he committed.

As the sword of Chaos pierced his heart, Gabriel Danet received the Emperor's Peace at long last.


End file.
